I admit… this pet doesn’t get the whole watching sports thing.
Are there not better things to do?
While I have been known, while in Europe, to go to World Cup finale parties for the countries I support- that is once every four years. To be honest, I am really only there to sink in the heady smell of testosterone and get incredibly drunk.
Let alone the lead up games, there is so much hype over the superbowl, and for what? Lets be honest… who really gets their jollies watching a bunch of overpumped millionaires running around on a field for a while- with a 12 minute break for another overhyped millionaire to ‘entertain’ you?
Should we not be making late October/mid November baby boom months? Could we not attempt to have a Superball? Turn off the TV and just have crazy monkey sex instead? It’s a Sunday afternoon! Can’t all 400 million Americans think of something better to do? And don’t tell me that you can do her doggy style and still watch the game, because then you REALLY aren’t putting your back into it…
Just think… You could be holding me down by shoulders and breeding me. Yes… driving that potent piece of male flesh deep inside my body over and over again- your mushroom head pushing against my walls… holding you in so tight… almost sucking you into my body… my breasts crushed into your chest.. My legs around your hips, squeezing you tightly. I am so greedy… I want every part of you. I can’t get enough of you. Then you strain and plough… getting ever closer… tensing… the veins in your neck standing out from that most primitive effort…
I understand there is an almost torturous moment for men… when they are just about to cum… do they let it go? Do they try and hold back to keep the moment going as long as then can…? I hear it almost burns- that need for release… to plant their seed… And then that intense pressure as their body expels that most precious gift… preferably deep within my thirsty womb.
Each pulsing throb… rocking both you and me together… my climax around you… sucking it ever deeper into me. So much that it runs out of me before you are even finished. A cup overfilled with champagne.
Then you collapse on top of me, your sweat dripping onto my face and into my mouth… I can taste your effort…
I lick my lips and hope that there is more.
Seriously… is this not better than watching some dudes play a game on TV?
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